


Golden Heart

by coffeebuoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Child Abuse, Fluff, I'll add more as I go, M/M, Pottertalia, Slurs, idk man read at your own risk, possible porn idk i'm not good at writing it so probs not sry, star crossed lovers?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2660249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeebuoy/pseuds/coffeebuoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred hailed from a poor muggle household. His parents loved him so much that when they got his acceptance letter to Hogwarts, they let him go - giving him his best chance at Hogwarts, located in England, far away from his home in America. He was excited and nervous at the same time to be in England and be so far away from home, but when he met his uncle, the man he would be staying with, things took a turn for the worst. Only school could keep him happy and secure, despite the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin that forced Alfred and the first friend he made in England, Arthur, to turn away from each other for the good of the houses. They both joined their houses' Quidditch teams and gained popularity, then became the most powerful players on their teams, and also the most powerful rivals. They were famous for hating each other, and when their prank war started, they had captured the attention of the entire school. But with their growing passion for each other and Alfred's unspoken home life, how long would it be until one of them snapped under the pressure?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Heart

**Author's Note:**

> hey, guys! 
> 
> so, this entire fic started with a single idea - i'm gonna write pottertalia! so after a few minutes of bullshitting ideas, i came up with this train wreck! i hope you like it tbh,,, i worked really hard on it ;;
> 
> this is your last warning. this fic contains child and alcohol abuse. if that is a trigger for you, i would suggest you turn away from this fic.

When Alfred stepped off of the plane, he suddenly felt all of his false confidence leave him. Here he was, finally here, in the middle of an airport in London (that he failed to remember the name of), yet no matter how prepared he thought he was for this day, he was wrong. His cool attitude, his thought process, everything flew out of the window when he stood frozen, staring at the people bustling about and talking in strange accents. Some of them bumped into his shoulder as they disembarked the plane, in too much of a hurry to mutter a mere apology to the American boy. He had gone from feeling on top of the world to wanting to run back into the arms of his smiling parents he left behind in a matter of two seconds. It was overwhelming. He suddenly wished his parents weren’t so poor so they could move out to London with him.

“Alfred?” asked his travelling escort. He looked up at her, wide eyed and scared. Annie was her name, and she was there to help him to his destination, since he was much too young to travel alone. Alfred liked Annie. She spent the flight playing card games with him and giving him the cookies from her lunch, and just being very kind to the boy in general. Her painted lips drooped into a frown and her fashionably arched eyebrows furrowed at the boy’s expression. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“I…” he looked away again, his eyes glazing back over the busy scene in front of him. He gulped, then took a deep breath. Since a few more moments had passed since his initial reaction, he could feel himself calming down. He felt a little better. “I’m hungry,” he lied, heading forwards towards the first food stand he saw. He wasn’t sure if Annie knew he wasn’t being truthful, but if she did, she didn’t say anything while she followed behind him.

“I can take you as far as to your uncle, but that’s where we’ll have to say goodbye,” Annie said after they sat down with the food they ordered. There was a sad twinkle in her eye.

“Oh,” Alfred said, looking disappointed. “I’ll see you again sometime, right?” he asked hopefully. Annie gave a smile and nodded her head, her bushy, yet carefully styled black locks bouncing as she did so. “Cool,” he smiled.

The rest of their lunch was spent in more of a lighthearted mood, but there was nothing they could do to dispel the dark cloud that seemed to hover over them.

The time to say goodbye came faster than they expected. As they said their sad goodbyes, Alfred knew it would be okay. He didn’t get super attached to the mother-like woman, so it wasn’t very hard to say goodbye. Besides, he knew he could always come back and find her, or at least that’s what his childish brain told him. At the young age of eleven, everything was possible.

When Alfred turned to face the man he was left with, he wasn’t anything like he imagined. Since this would be his first time meeting his uncle, he wasn’t exactly sure what he expected, but it wasn’t…this. The man had dark hair and bushy, unkempt facial hair. He was balding at the top of his head, exposing his oily, dirty scalp for all to see. His orange polo shirt bore many coffee stains, along with darkened armpits, and his fat stomach was peeking out from the bottom. His jeans appeared to have definitely seen better days – the holes were not fashionable, like the jeans that the older kids wore back in America. Lastly, his shoes were falling apart and had a bad odor. This man was nothing like the clean, well dressed background he was raised upon, and it made Alfred feel very uncomfortable.

“H-Hi,” he stuttered, looking awkwardly up at the taller man. He just grunted at Alfred.

“Follow me,” he ordered, then turned around and walked towards the doors without looking back once. Alfred sighed, then took the handle of the suitcase he collected earlier and pulled it behind him as he followed his uncle. From what he remembered, the man lived alone, so it’d just be them alone. This didn’t seem like it would be a very fun school experience.

* * *

 

Alfred observed a few things from living with his uncle these past couple of weeks. First of all, if Alfred didn’t clean, nothing would be clean. No dishes, no laundry, nothing at all. Alfred wasn’t a very clean person himself, but honestly, there’s a limit. Second of all, his uncle’s schedule was irregular. He worked every day (excluding the weekends) with a regular schedule, but Alfred never knew if he was going to stay out late with some friends down at the pub or not, the former of which was more than often the case. Lastly, under no circumstances was he to be in the same room with his uncle while the man was drunk. Ever. Unfortunately, the pitiful man was usually drunk, which forced Alfred to stay in his room near constantly, an arrangement he was _not_ happy with.

He stared out the window and sighed. Back in America, he would always be outside, running around playing sports and getting muddy with all his neighborhood friends. Here, there were no children to play with, and barely anywhere to play, and Alfred grew more and more sad as the days passed slowly by.

He kicked the wall in frustration. When he got his Hogwarts acceptance letter, he saw it as a new opportunity, as a new experience. He could hardly sleep the few nights before he left for England, he was so excited to meet a lot of new friends, learn magic, and meet his uncle. Now look at him. He was standing there, staring longingly out a window, black bags under his eyes and fingers shaking from unreleased energy, feeling years older than he was.

His head sluggishly moved to the side as he looked at the time. It was 10 am. Today was the day he was going to go into Diagon Alley and buy all his stuff. He knew he should be excited, but he just felt tired, which was usual nowadays. Although when he thought about asking his uncle to give him a ride to Diagon Alley, his tiredness was replaced with a strong wave of anxiety. When he asked his uncle for anything, he was yelled at. He learned to stay quiet most of the time, unless something was really important, and even then Alfred was hesitant. Just like now.

After a small pep talk, the spectacled boy quietly left his room and tip toed down the stairs. The stairs were near the back of the living room, so the couch faced away from him. His uncle was slouching on said couch, watching television like he usually did on his days off. He didn’t hear the young boy enter the room, so Alfred remained quiet, so as to not disturb the older man before he had to. He sidestepped against the bare walls, trying to get a glimpse of what his uncle was doing on the couch. He had to make sure he wasn’t drinking. Luckily, it was as if fate was on his side for once, and his uncle was doing nothing but eating straight out of a tub of rocky road ice cream. Still, Alfred stood against the wall, taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves to approach his uncle. His feet felt like they were treading through mud as he made his way slowly over to the side of the couch.

“Uncle?” he asked unexpectedly quietly, then cleared his throat. The spoon stopped halfway to his uncle’s mouth and made no move to go in either direction, but rather stayed in the air while those cruel brown eyes snapped over to him, narrowed in suspicion.

“Speak up, boy,” he growled. Alfred cleared his throat again.

“I, uh,” he looked down at his feet, “I start school in a few days…” and by a few days, Alfred meant exactly two days, on Monday, “and I was wondering if you could take me down to Diagon Alley.” he said the last bit quickly, just to get it over with quickly. He looked back up at his uncle nervously. The man shook his head and slammed his spoon back into the ice cream tub.

“What the _hell_ is Diagon Alley?” he exclaimed angrily. Alfred flinched.

“It’s a wizard-” Alfred started, but he didn’t get the opportunity to finish. He was interrupted by his uncle slamming the ice cream tub onto the table.

“Enough of this wizard bullshit!” he shouted, then stood up suddenly. Alfred backed away fearfully. The man stuffed his fat finger in Alfred’s face. “I don’t approve! I will not have any part of this! I told your parents I would drive you to the station, but nothing more! I WILL NOT DRIVE YOU TODAY!” Alfred shook in fear. He expected this reaction, but that didn’t make it any less scary. He was silent as his uncle sat back on the couch with a huff and picked up his ice cream again, shoveling it into his mouth. If this wasn’t so important, Alfred would have never pushed his boundaries, but he really needed the help from his uncle, so he dug into his pocket and pulled out a few bills.

“I have money,” he offered weakly, holding the money out to his uncle. He could tell how his uncle stiffened in anger from the sound of his voice, but at the mention of money, he snapped his head towards the younger boy. He stared at the money, then stood up and snatched the money.

“Just this once,” he said lowly. “No more!” Alfred stepped out of his way while he stomped to the kitchen to put his ice cream away, then stomped back over to the door. While he was unlocking it, Alfred shifted the bag he had hanging from his back, then started walking towards the door. Although he was too slow, because when his uncle opened the door, he shouted, “Hurry up, boy!” and Alfred ran right out the door.

* * *

 

The car ride was horribly silent, but that was still better than his uncle yelling. He was dropped off near where the letter in his hand said Diagon Alley was, then quickly drove off as soon as Alfred had shut the door. He assumed the man was going to a pub nearby, since that seemed to be his favorite past time when he left the house. Alfred watched the small car speed off, feeling truly abandoned. He spent quite a while searching for this “Leaky Cauldron” building, but he spotted nothing. He was just about to give up all hope, when suddenly, there it was right in front of him, as if it appeared suddenly out of thin air. He entered hesitantly, turning his head this way and that while he took in the new surroundings. His eyes widened in fascination. He spotted self-stirring spoons, floating plates, moving pictures, and those were only a few of the amazing sights he saw. Being muggle born, Alfred had never in his life experienced such things, but the witches and wizards around him seemed unaffected, like they saw things like this every day – which they did. As he made his way through the pub, a bartender caught his eye, so he went right up to the bar and caught his attention.

“Excuse me?” he called out shamelessly. The bartender turned around in surprise – it was clear he hadn’t expected the young man. But almost immediately, his eyes softened into a warm kindness. It had been a while since Alfred had seen someone look at him so nicely. His heart hurt.

“Yes, young man? How can I help you?” the bartender leaned forward on the counter, trying to get into more of a speaking distance with the short boy. Alfred smiled.

“Where can I find Diagon Alley?” he asked the bartender while handing over one of his Hogwarts letters. The man seemed to know what it was before it was placed in his hands, but he gave it a look anyways.

“Ah,” he hummed knowingly. “Straight out the back doors, through the brick wall,” he answered simply. Alfred’s mouth hung open.

“ _Through_ the brick wall?” he asked in disbelief. The bartender leaned back and chortled merrily.

“Aren’t you a wizard, boy?” he exclaimed, though he held none of the malice his uncle would have. Instead, he sounded very amused. He leaned forward again, then gave Alfred a wink. “Tap the bricks. Three up, two across.” Alfred nodded. Now it made sense. It was so easy!

“Thank you, sir!” Alfred thanked him happily, then sped off to exit the back doors, where he was faced with the brick wall which the bartender mentioned. He reached forward to tap bricks, then froze as he realized his mistake. Alfred took back his hand and stared up at the wall. _Which bricks?_

He was about to run back in to ask, but before he could move one step, a man and a woman emerged from the back doors and approached the wall. They gave Alfred a friendly smile, then started tapping the correct bricks.

“Oh…” Alfred stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Cool,” he grinned. That was a pretty lucky break.

After the correct bricks had all been tapped, the bricks started moving on their own. Once again, Alfred found himself with his mouth hanging wide open as he watched in awe as the bricks moved and created a passage way right in the middle of the wall. The adults walked right in like they owned the place, but Alfred was frozen, staring at the bricks as if they’d move again. After a moment, his staring contest was suddenly interrupted by a voice being cleared behind him.

“Excuse me, I can’t get through with you standing there,” the voice said. Alfred turned around to look at the person behind him, and was met face-to-face with a boy that appeared to be around the same age as him, as well as the same height. He was wearing a button down t-shirt with a pair of slacks, looking as if he was dressed for business rather than going down to Diagon Alley. His hair was a sandy blonde, his eyes a bright, vibrant green. Right now his eyes were narrowed in annoyance. What made Alfred snort, however, where those giant caterpillars on the boy’s face, in place of his eyebrows. What a funny joke… except it wasn’t. Those were his actual eyebrows. The realization made Alfred snort even louder and bark a laugh. The boy’s caterpillar-brows furrowed even more than they already were, if that was even possible. Apparently it was. “What?” he asked irritably.

“Your eyebrows!” Alfred laughed, “I thought they were caterpillars!” The boy stiffened.

“Get out of my way. The passageway will close soon and I’m losing sight of my parents,” he snapped. Alfred, while still laughing, managed to move to the side while eyebrows-boy stomped through the passage. Alfred followed shortly after.

“What’s your name?” he asked, starting to calm down from his laughter.

“Leave me alone,” the other boy answered instead. Alfred hummed in thought.

“Leave me alone. That’s a strange name,” he mused, and the other boy huffed. He opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the adult woman from earlier, who Alfred assumed to be his mother.

“Arthur, don’t lag behind,” she reminded him kindly.

“Arthur, huh?” Alfred said immediately. Arthur cursed under his breath, obviously upset with Alfred knowing his name.

“Go away,” Arthur warned, wanting nothing to do with this rude American, but the rude American ignored him. When Arthur sped up to catch up with his parents, Alfred sped up, too.

“Will this be your first year?” Alfred asked as they entered a book shop. His eyebrows rose as he remembered something, then pulled out his shopping list for school.  Arthur was getting ready to reply with something smart, but once again, he was interrupted by his parent, although this time it was his father.

“Yes it is,” he said proudly, setting a hand atop Arthur’s head. “I presume this is your first year as well…?” he trailed off, clearly waiting for a name.

“Alfred,” Alfred replied happily, “and yeah, it is.”

“Where are your parents, Alfred?” Mrs. Arthur asked. Alfred deflated a little.

“America…?” he answered awkwardly. The couple looked taken aback.

“Who are you staying here with?” Mrs. Arthur asked again, although instead of looking angry like Alfred expected, she just looked worried. Alfred shifted awkwardly, eyes glued to the floor.

“Um… My uncle,” he admitted uncomfortably. He did not look very happy with the conversation, and luckily the parents seemed to pick up on that.

“Well, alright…” Mrs. Arthur said, then her and her partner (her husband?) shared a look.

“Since he doesn’t appear to be around right now, we’ll help you find your supplies,” Mr. Arthur said kindly. Alfred snapped his head up, looking at them with wide eyes.

“Really?” he exclaimed happily. He hadn’t realized it before, but looking around, the alley seemed intimidating and he wasn’t sure if he’d find everything he needed, but now that he was getting help, he didn’t have to worry. Arthur’s parents gave a small laugh.

“Yes, really,” Mr. Arthur replied. Alfred felt ecstatic, yet when he looked over at Arthur, he found a sour look on the British boy’s face, but that was okay. Alfred didn’t really care, he was just glad he was getting some much needed assistance.

Soon enough Arthur’s parents were searching around at books, and Alfred was searching with them, until he saw Arthur depart from the crowd out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to face Arthur, then followed after him. The British boy had stopped in front of a shelf upon which some books about mythical creatures sat. Alfred watched, somehow undetected by the other boy, while Arthur picked up a book specifically about unicorns and opened it up. Alfred gave a smirk.

“Unicorns?” he asked, leaning his shoulder against the wall. Arthur yelped and slammed the book closed, then dropped it back onto the shelf while backing away.

“I wasn’t looking at unicorns!” he lied, turning away from Alfred with a huff. He crossed his arms, trying to look as disinterested in his presence as possible.

“Hey,” Alfred said hurriedly, trying to stop the boy from leaving. “I think unicorns are pretty cool,” he informed him. Arthur continued to stand with his back to Alfred, but Alfred could tell that he was listening. After a moment, Arthur turned to face him again, looking unsure.

“Really?” he asked hesitantly. Alfred nodded.

“I didn’t know they were real, but I guess they are, according to that book,” Alfred explained, then moved to pick up the book and peek inside it. He rose his eyebrows, “Wow. This is awesome,” he grinned. Arthur couldn’t keep back his own small smile.

“Did you know they’re born the color of pure gold?” he asked, reaching and taking the book away from Alfred so he could read it. Alfred didn’t mind.

“Wait, seriously?” Alfred asked. Arthur observed the American boy’s reaction. He suspected this all to be part of some cruel joke, that his reaction was fake, but looking at his face, Arthur couldn’t see anything but pure wonder. He looked back at the book. Maybe Alfred wasn’t trying to trick him. There was a possibility that Arthur was wrong about that, but something in Alfred made him trust him.

“Yes,” he nodded, “until they’re two years old,” his smile widened at Alfred’s comical reaction of shock.

“I wish I was born gold,” Alfred said, and Arthur actually laughed.

“The doctors wouldn’t know what to do with you. You would have probably been used to buy an island,” Arthur teased Alfred. Alfred’s chubby cheeks puffed up.

“No I wouldn’t! My parents love me,” he argued, but he wasn’t angry.

“I bet they would. Then you’d be locked in a bank safe, fed only bread and cheese your entire life,” Arthur snickered.

“No burgers?” Alfred looked as if he was about to cry.

“Never,” Arthur replied with a superior smirk. Alfred groaned loudly and fell against the wall dramatically, then joined in with Arthur in laughing. When he began calming down from his laughter, he looked across the room and met eyes with Mrs. Arthur who was smiling warmly. Alfred assumed she was just happy that he was getting along so well with her son, and he gave her a wave. She waved him over to her in reply and he got up off the wall.

“Your mom wants us over with her,” Alfred told Arthur, still giggling a little. Arthur nodded his head, also giggling. He held onto the unicorn book while he walked over to his parents. When he reached them, he showed it to them and asked for it, and his mother just took it and put it right in the hand basket. Alfred gawked. They just gave it to him? Arthur’s books would be expensive enough, let alone buying an entire other textbook along with them! Arthur noticed Alfred’s dumbfounded expression and gave him a questioning look.

“What?” he asked.

“Isn’t it expensive?” Alfred motioned to the basket. Arthur looked over at it, then shrugged.

“Not particularly,” he said nonchalantly. Alfred could not believe this. He would have pressed on, if not for Mr. Arthur calling Alfred over. Alfred bookmarked this conversation for later (even though he knew he’d probably just forget about it) as he made his way over to Mr. Arthur. The man was holding two books of the same title, and when Alfred approached, he gave him one of the books.

“One of your books,” he explained to Alfred’s confused expression. Realization dawned on Alfred, and he checked his list. Sure enough, there it was, right at the top, the title of the book.

“Thank you,” he grinned, holding the book close. Mr. Arthur smiled right back.

“We told you would help you, so that’s what we’re doing,” he reminded Alfred. Alfred just nodded excitedly.

After their books had been selected and they approached the paying counter, Arthur’s parents waved Alfred in front of them.

“You can go first, Alfred,” Mrs. Arthur told him. Alfred hesitated.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and the adults nodded.

“If you have any trouble, we’ll be right behind you,” Mrs. Arthur smiled encouragingly. Alfred felt better with having them there than he would have if he was doing it alone, so he stepped right up to the counter and deposited his books. When his total had been told to him, he took out his wallet and started counting out bills – but before he could get the appropriate amount, the clerk spoke up.

“We don’t take the muggle money here, dear. I’m sorry,” she explained. Alfred felt very confused and looked back at Arthur’s parents for help. They nodded as if they understood something, then stepped around Alfred, up to the counter.

“We’ll take care of it,” Mr. Arthur let the clerk know.

“Wait, no, I have money, it’s just not the right money!” Alfred exclaimed, holding the money out to him. Mr. Arthur waved his hand at Alfred.

“Don’t worry about it, we have the money to spare,” he explained, then emptied their basket of Arthur’s books as well. Alfred looked distraught.

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking defeated. Mrs. Arthur ruffled his hair.

“Don’t worry, Alfred,” she reassured him. He just let the situation go, unsure of how to change it. Since he grew up in a poor home, he always felt uncomfortable taking away from others’ money, since wealth was a very foreign concept to him. As Alfred collected his bag of books and exited the shop with the Arthur family, he looked very guilty.

“Thank you,” he said, looking at the two adults, “a lot. That was really nice of you.” They waved their hands in dismissal.

“That was nothing. We just weren’t very keen on making a trip to Gringotts and risking your books being taken by others,” Mr. Arthur said with a wink. Alfred gave a smile. That made sense, he supposed. Wait, what the heck was Gringotts?

“What’s Gringotts?” Alfred asked curiously.

“A bank,” Arthur answered for his parents, pointing in the direction of a very fancy looking building. “That’s where we’re going next, to exchange your money.”

* * *

 

It took a heavy bag full of school supplies, a new barn owl (that he proudly named Liberty), and a goodbye to his new friend for Alfred to realize that he had no idea where his uncle was.  The poor lost boy walked back to where he was dropped off, but his uncle nor his car was anywhere to be seen. He started walking in the direction in which he remembered his uncle driving, hoping to find at least his car (preferably his car) so he could just wait by it for his uncle. After half an hour of searching, he was about to give up and accept his fate as a homeless child, before he spotted a familiar looking black car. He had his doubts, but his heart still hammered hopefully as he approached the vehicle. Upon coming to the conclusion that it was, indeed his uncle’s car, it was like lights shined down from above and illuminated it in a heavenly glow. Alfred set his belongings on the sidewalk near the parallel-parked car and sat down in a sigh of relief. He was well aware he could enter the pub (the only one on that side of the street) and search for his uncle, but honestly, he wasn’t ready to die yet. He’d rather risk rain and sit by the car.

Hours passed, people passed, the sun passed overhead, and the sun was setting behind the buildings in the distance when his uncle finally emerged from the pub, obviously wobbly on his feet. Alfred looked up from his half read transfiguration textbook (yes, he was THAT bored) and immediately felt anxious. The last thing he wanted was to get in the car with a drunk man, especially his drunk uncle, but without his uncle’s address and without money for a cab (he exchanged everything he had for wizard currency), he knew he had no choice.

“The bloody ‘ell are you doing here?” he slurred, squinting angrily at the boy. Alfred hurriedly put away his things and stood up, holding his bag and bird cage.

“You dropped me off earlier, sir,” he admitted hesitantly. His uncle bristled and looked as if he was going to shout, so Alfred winced in anticipation, but his uncle didn’t do anything. He just unlocked the car.

“Get in the fucking car then,” he growled, and Alfred rushed in the back seat as fast as he could. He situated his belongings around him and secured his seatbelt on himself, then double checked to make sure his seatbelt was on. If something terrible happened, he wanted to have his best chance at survival. In America, he learned all about the consequences of drunk driving in school, so needless to say, he was terrified, yet he said nothing as his wasted uncle climbed into the driver’s seat with a grunt. His uncle started up the car, and Alfred was thankful that there was no one behind them because with the way his uncle backed up, he would have rammed right into them.

Alfred tried his hardest to be quiet in the back of the car, but unfortunately, he had more than himself to look after. They were nearing the end of their trip, thankfully intact, when Liberty began hooting. Alfred gasped and tried to quiet her, but it was too late.

“Shut the FUCK UP!” his uncle roared, pounding his fist on the horn while the car swerved wildly. Alfred bit back a yelp, hugging Capitalism’s cage close as he was jerked side to side. It was a miracle that they didn’t crash, and instead pulled clumsily into the parking lot and jerked forward as his uncle suddenly stopped and shut off the car. With the way his uncle got out of the car, Alfred knew he had to unbuckle his seatbelt and grab his stuff. NOW.

He definitely hadn’t been wrong in his judgment, for as soon as his hands closed over his bag and bird cage, he was being dragged out of the car by the back of his shirt.

“Uncle-” he exclaimed in surprise, hurrying to keep up with how his uncle was dragging him. The man jerked him harsher at the sound of his protest, and after clumsily unlocking the door and pushing it open, he threw Alfred into the house and slammed the door closed. Alfred tried to run, but he was captured again by the collar, and the man pinned him against the wall with his strong, beefy hand around Alfred’s thin throat.

“I HAVE GIVEN YOU FOOD AND SHELTER!” he screamed into Alfred’s face, and Alfred turned his face away from the shouting, but his uncle put his hand around Alfred’s chin and jerked his face harshly back to face him. “LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!” he continued to scream. Tears pricked at his eyes, threatening to fall. “IS THIS HOW YOU WILL REPAY ME FOR MY KINDNESS? BY MAKING FUNNY NOISES IN THE CAR?”

“T-That was the bird,” Alfred replied weakly. His windpipe was restricted – he was barely getting any air. His uncle dragged him forward and slammed him back against the wall by his neck, forcing Alfred to yelp out in pain.

“LIKE HELL IT WAS THE BIRD!” he hollered. Hot tears began to fall down Alfred’s cheeks, and he’d never felt weaker than at that moment. His uncle gave him a sadistic smirk. “Are you going to cry like a little faggot now?” he sneered. That just caused more tears to fall down Alfred’s cheeks, be dared not to sob. He was not a fag. He was not gay.

Suddenly, his uncle let go of his neck, and Alfred fell to the ground, gasping air into his deprived lungs. Although as his uncle retreated from the room, he knew that the man had a reason for leaving. He was getting something that would do more damage. Despite being weak from the lack of air, Alfred found that opportunity to gather his things and drag himself upstairs. He had barely gotten into his room and locked his door before he heard his uncle running up the stairs.

“OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!” he screamed, strongly pounding his fists on the door. Alfred didn’t move from his spot on the bed. He was paralyzed in fear, sobbing openly into his drawn up knees as he tried to block out the banging on the door. It didn’t take long, but it was still a terrifying wait for his uncle to lose interest and go downstairs. Whether he was going to drink more alcohol or pass out somewhere, Alfred wasn’t sure, nor did he care.

His tears didn’t stop until long after his uncle left, when Alfred found solace in sleep.

The next day, Alfred spent the day packing and didn’t leave his room unless it was to use the bathroom. He didn’t dare go downstairs to get food, no matter how hungry he was. He was terrified.

His first trip to the bathroom went fine, he took care of his business, but while washing his hands, he looked up at his reflection and froze. His eyes held darker bags than they usually did and his face looked very tired and stressed for his age, but that wasn’t what he was looking at. He reached up a wet, shaky hand and touched the hand-shaped bruise on his neck. He felt like the bottom of the floor fell out and swallowed him up in a big, black pit. He couldn’t go to school like this. His eyes felt as if they would cry, but no tears came out. It was as if he cried them all out – he probably did.

After what seemed like hours of staring at his neck, Alfred realized there was nothing he could do about it, so he silently left the bathroom and trudged to his room, locking the bedroom door behind him and collapsing on the bed. He sighed for the millionth time that day, still not sure what to do about everything.

He had begun to fall asleep again, when he suddenly remembered something and jumped up. He opened his suitcase and dug through it, until he spotted what he was searching for and took it out. It was a folded up black scarf, one which his mother insisted Alfred take for the wintertime, despite the fact that he would get a scarf in his house colors to use. Relief rushed through his veins as he hugged the scarf close. He could use it to hide the marks! The American boy spent the next few hours staring at the scarf while absorbed in his own world in his head, until eventually he finally fell asleep.

* * *

 

Luckily, when he awoke and showered the next morning (not forgetting to dress in his important scarf afterwards), he tiptoed downstairs to find his uncle up and getting ready. He was home later than when he was supposed to leave for work, so Alfred knew it was because his uncle remembered he was supposed to take him to the station. His uncle said nothing to him as Alfred went past him to enter the kitchen. He made himself a sad bowl of cereal, but when he sat to eat it, he found it as tasteless as everything else he ate in his uncle’s kitchen. Alfred had just finished drinking the rest of the milk as his uncle entered the room.

“Get your shit,” he ordered. Alfred nodded silently and sped out of the kitchen, partly because he knew his uncle was not patient, and partly to get away from the man. He took the stairs two at a time, but instead of getting his things immediately, he stopped by the bathroom to brush his teeth. He was not going to show up on his first day with rotten milk breath.

His washed off toothbrush went into a toothbrush holder and into his suitcase when he finished. After double checking that he had absolutely everything he needed, Alfred left the room with his suitcase and bird cage.

“It’ll be okay,” he reassured his restless caged companion, “you’ll like your new home better.” _Just like me._

“Took you long enough,” his uncle grunted when Alfred joined him in the living room. Alfred really wanted to roll his eyes. It wasn’t as if they had to leave _right that second._ In fact, looking at the clock, Alfred found that it was 8 am, and his train wasn’t scheduled to leave until 11 am sharp. Despite being privy to this fact, Alfred didn’t dare say anything. He just followed obediently after his uncle, getting into the car when he was told to. His stomach fluttered in excitement and his knees bounced in anticipation. He was being driven to a train station, where he would be taken far, far away from his uncle for many months. He couldn’t hold back a smile. The Hogwarts Express felt like his knight in shining armor – although he stopped that thought process immediately because it sounded really gay.

Once again, he was dropped off in front of his destination, and his uncle drove away immediately after the door was closed. This time, however, Alfred didn’t have to worry about which way he had gone or about finding him later, and that made him so happy that he jumped for joy right there in public, ignoring the strange stares from those standing around.

He entered the station quickly, heading over to the rolling carts and setting his belongings on it so he could give his hands a rest. As he pushed the cart and looked around the train station, he worried less about how he would spend his spare two to three hours. There were many shops to enter, so he began to look around happily. Maybe he could find something to send back to mom and dad.

Not surprisingly, he found himself running to his platform. Leave it to Alfred to be three hours early to the station, yet _still_ be late for the train. He was well aware that he had no idea where the hell platform 9 ¼ was, and he was about to ask one of the guards when he spotted someone running through a wall. Uh… He hesitantly approached, looking curiously at the next person who entered the wall. As a person who was running low on time and desperate enough as it was, Alfred didn’t even ask the people around him (who were obviously waiting to get onto the platform) for any guidance before he winged it and ran straight for the wall.

He expected to hit the wall, knowing his luck, but instead he phased right through and was met with the sight of a mighty train. White smoke curled around the air above the front of the train, growing weaker and weaker before disappearing altogether and getting replaced by new smoke. The train itself looked strong and reliable, and the sight of it gave him a sense of safety, something he hadn’t felt in weeks. It was a strange feeling.

Students were filing into the train one after another, making it obvious the train was going to leave soon. That pulled Alfred out of his thoughts and had him moving towards the train, awkwardly carrying his belongings with him as he boarded the train. He tried his hardest to avoid hitting anyone with his suitcase as he searched for a compartment to sit in, but the students in each one he hesitated in front of were full, and the inhabitants gave him looks as if they’d gnaw his arms off if he had the audacity to try to squeeze himself in. He just kept walking, wondering what their problems were, jeez.

It was becoming more and more obvious why it was important to be early, as Alfred had not passed one free compartment. He hadn’t even passed a compartment with one or two people in it – they were all full. He huffed, feeling discouraged, when suddenly he passed a compartment housing a familiar face buried in a book. He grinned and threw open the door suddenly, causing the inhabitant to jump and yelp in surprise.

“Arthur!” Alfred exclaimed merrily, dragging his things in. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Honestly, Alfred, you almost gave me a heart attack!” he complained. Alfred laughed.

“But I didn’t, did I?” he made a valid point. Arthur rolled his eyes again and grumbled. Alfred put his case beside Arthur’s and sat across from the British boy. “So how have things been, man?” he asked. Arthur was used to that question being asked as a general conversation starter and he knew that no one really cared how things had been, but oddly, it seemed as if the other boy cared more than usual. That was odd. Arthur looked down at his book, trying to appear disinterested to hide his feeling of awkwardness.

“Well, it’s only been two days so there was really no time for anything interesting to happen,” Arthur pointed out.

 _A lot can happen in two days, actually,_ Alfred found himself thinking to himself, but he didn’t say anything.

“Nothing? Seriously? What a boring life you lead,” Alfred said, but there was no hint of malice in his voice, just a happy grin that reminded Arthur of a puppy, happy to see his owner come home every day.

“Yours can’t be that much better,” Arthur argued, his eyes settling on the other boy’s scarf. “Why are you wearing a scarf? It’s still quite warm outside,” Arthur asked curiously. He could see something flash in the boy’s eyes, but it was gone before he could identify it. Alfred gave a careless shrug.

“I love this scarf. I wear it every day,” Alfred explained, giving the fabric a small pat. Arthur gave him a strange look, but dismissed the issue, as it was none of his business in the first place. Maybe that was the fashion in America.

“So,” Alfred began, desiring a subject change. He wanted to avoid Arthur possibly asking questions he couldn’t answer. “Do you drink tea every day?” he asked the first thing that popped into his mind. It wasn’t until he saw the strange look on Arthur’s face that he noticed that that was a weird question. Welp.

“Erm, usually…” he answered slowly. “Do you not?”

“No,” Alfred made a face. “I hate tea.” He actually doubted that his uncle had any tea at all in the house. It was mostly alcohol and coffee, sometimes even a grotesque mixture of the two. Upon hearing Alfred’s response, Arthur looked like he had just been told that Hogwarts was burning down and they had to turn around right that moment.

“You can’t just come into England and hate tea,” he exclaimed in disbelief. “It’s unnatural!” Alfred just shrugged.

“Well, call me unnatural, because here I am,” Alfred replied proudly, spreading his arms out. Arthur leaned back and crossed his arms.

“You’re going to catch on fire because you’re so unnatural,” he warned Alfred. Alfred laughed.

“So I’m a vampire, now?” Alfred asked jokingly.

“Yes,” Arthur replied seriously, then withdrew a pencil from his bag.

“Why do you have a pencil?” Alfred asked, concerned. Arthur sent him a confident smirk.

“It’s my wooden stake,” he explained proudly. Alfred’s eyes widened comically.

“Please!” he begged, intertwining his fingers together in front of himself, a position of request. “Please spare me, Mr. Vampire Slayer! I have a vampire family back home that I have to provide for! We’re so low on money that my wife is stripping for men in the bars while I am left to try and sell all of my daughter’s Girl Scout cookies! Do you like thin mints?” Alfred asked desperately, reaching into his bag to put on a show, but Arthur wasn’t looking – he was too busy laughing his ass off at Alfred’s dramatic performance. Alfred found himself laughing, as well.

The rest of the trip they spent talking, laughing, and generally getting to know one another better. Alfred learned that Arthur’s last name was Kirkland, he came from a wealthy “pureblood” family (“It means there hasn’t been anyone in my family who was a muggle!”), and he _really_ liked unicorns. Arthur learned that Alfred’s favorite food is a burger, he was muggle born, and he had an obsession with muggle sports.

Alfred was deep into an explanation of American football to an uninterested Arthur when the train began to slow as it pulled into the station of Hogwarts. Alfred dropped what he was saying as if he hadn’t said anything at all and jumped up, sticking his nose against the window. Arthur grimaced at the lack of class.

“Hogwarts!” he yelled, practically bouncing in his place in front of the window. Arthur sighed, but deep down, he found Alfred’s excitement endearing.

“Hogwarts,” he repeated as he stood up and moved to stand beside Alfred, looking out the window at the majestic castle. Alfred placed a hand on the glass, allowing it to slide down and dirty up the window with smudges.

“I’ve been waiting for so long, and it’s finally here,” he said in disbelief.

“Yeah…” Arthur nodded. That was one thing he could relate to with Alfred.

“It’s like when you’ve held in your pee until you’re ready to explode and when you’re finally able to let it go, it feels like bliss,” the rude American mused. Arthur smacked his arm. Alfred held his arm with an overly offended face.

“Get your things, it’s time to get off,” Arthur said as he grabbed his suitcase and the cage that housed Tea, his pet black pat that Alfred had met earlier when she had started meowing pathetically. Arthur had calmed her down by petting her through the bars and promising her that she could be let out soon. Alfred followed suit and grabbed his own suitcase and Liberty’s cage. They left together and walked over to the boats side-by-side. Nobody really paid them much mind, since they were all focused on their own experiences of their first moments at Hogwarts.

“What house do you think you’ll be in?” Alfred asked Arthur as they were told by a teacher to wait outside the hall. Arthur smiled knowingly.

“They say all the talented, pureblood wizards go to Slytherin,” he explained proudly, “so I’m betting I’ll go there.” Alfred hummed curiously, then shrugged.

“I don’t know much about the houses in all honesty,” he admitted, “but I hope I get the same house as you! You’re cool,” he grinned. Arthur gave a small smile, blushing a little.

“Well thank you,” he said.

Soon enough, they were let in. The first years gathered in the front of the hall, and all eyes from the older students were on them as they began to call names. Since they were calling names alphabetically, Arthur knew that Alfred would be called first. He smirked and hung back as the list made its way to the J’s. If Alfred was anything, it would be anything _but_ a Slytherin. He knew the boy wouldn’t be sorted into the house he was almost certain he’d be sorted into, and that disappointed Arthur more than he’d like to admit.

“Gryffindor!” the hat cried almost immediately after being placed on Alfred’s head, and Arthur could say that he was not the least surprised. No other house would fit the energetic boy more. Alfred was too absorbed in the cheering of the Gryffindor table to feel disappointed that he hadn’t been a Slytherin. Instead, he just sat down at the seat they gestured him to and watched Arthur, hoping he got Gryffindor as well. But he didn’t. When the hat shouted, “Slytherin!” like Alfred had somehow expected, he gave a sigh, but got over it quickly. It wasn’t that big of a deal. They didn’t have to be in the same house to be friends!

When Alfred caught Arthur’s eye, he gave him a big old smile. Arthur shook his head and looked away, but he couldn’t hide the smile that still curved his mouth.

Alfred was quickly accepted by the second and third years, even some fourth years. They eagerly told him about everything at the school and how things worked. Alfred liked to think that it was because of his strong physique, but in all reality it was probably because he was a muggle-born. Somehow the topic of relations between the houses was brought up, and something that captured Alfred’s attention had been mentioned. Alfred raised his eyebrows.

“What?” he asked, not sure if he heard that correctly.

“I said,” repeated Noah, one of the third years, “us Gryffindors aren’t supposed to interact with the Slytherins. That’s, like, breaking the house code. They’re evil and mean anyways, you don’t want to be friends with them,” he grimaced. Alfred felt a loneliness spark up in his stomach at those words. _Us Gryffindors aren’t supposed to react with the Slytherins._ His eyes traveled back over to Arthur, who was too busy making his own friends to notice him. He really liked Arthur – he was his first friend in this new world, but he didn’t feel like messing up his chances to make friends with all the people in his house. He gave a soft sigh.

 _Sorry, Arthur,_ he thought. Lucky enough for Alfred, Arthur was thinking the same thing.

**Author's Note:**

> soooo yeah, there it is aha. i hope you liked it! don't feel pressured to leave a comment if that makes you nervous. a kudo will do. uwu see you guys next chapter!!!


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